It turned out that Bob was something of a novelty item for the Class of ‘Introduction to General Races’. At least the teacher, Norgulin, who looked like a… human tortoise, thought so. Actually, perhaps it would be better to describe the teacher in more detail. Michael had the feeling that a lot of the races he was seeing he described as half-human-something in his head.

Norgulin’s race was called the Qarai. Which meant that their people either looked like tortoises or turtles, from the descriptions and illustrations he had presented. Apparently, that had as much to do with where they lived as it had with genetics themselves, but Michael got lost somewhere in the middle of the explanation.

The Qarai had a shell on their back, which was something of a status symbol, as it could be sculpted, painted or adorned in various ways. Even inscribed with runes or other symbols and used to facilitate magical casting. Their robes or other garments were usually designed with the shell in mind. That being said, Norgulin wasn’t at all hunched over or slow. He was taller than Michael and as agile as… anyone else, really.

Still, to anyone who experienced their childhood within a certain time-frame, Norgulin looked dubiously a lot like a certain set of characters.

Take away the robe, give him an eyecloth and he’s straight out of TMNT.

Well, that was what was interesting with their teacher. Their teacher, however, was very much interested about Bob and spent much of their lecture talking about the new student, much to his embarrassment. Though that also have been because he was asking Bob to confirm or deny what he knew, every few minutes. Apparently, Bobs’s race wasn’t that well known, even outside magic users. They occupied a part of the wider world that was mostly composed of savannah. Very rarely did they stray out of their natural zones. And for them to produce a magic user?

Virtually unheard of.

Gaindel were a very old race, yet they had no magic of their own. They relied on their natural size and natural inclination towards combat in order to make a name for themselves. Even so, very few regions were solely held by the Gaindel, even in the savannah. That sounded like a piece of the puzzle was missing in Michael’s opinion, but he refrained from commentating.

Not to be wrongly understood, Norgulin did congratulate Bob on his choice. He also advised him to search out archives on races and magic users among them, in the Gnosis libraries. He didn’t remember another Gaindel wielding magic before, either via a |Mage| Class, a |Shaman| one or any other and he didn’t remember Gaindel walking Gnosis’s halls either, but he said that the academy was old enough that even if an event only happened once in a few thousand years, these walls should have seen it a few times before.

That seemed to make Bob perk up and he thanked the teacher. What few minutes were left of the Class were spent detailing topics they had entered in the previous session.

“I mean, he never treated me like a special subject before.” Micah complained, shoveling bacon down his throat.

You had to love Gnosian mess halls. They were everywhere. Actually, Michael had started to suspect that they appeared when they were really needed in a location, like a bunch of students exiting a Classroom and thinking about food all at the same time, but he didn’t tell Micah that, fearing the lycan would find a way to abuse it.

“Would you like to?” Bob asked.

“Don’t answer that.” Michael cut in. “He would, he totally would. But tell me, Micah, are lycans really that rare that you warrant an entire Class?”

“Not rare, no.” He spoke between mouthfuls. “But we have a certain mystique of our own, you know? A certain… something-something.”

“Something-something. Yes, well, you certainly don’t lack for poetry.” Michael observed, making Bob laugh.

Which was booming enough that it made a few other students turn their heads. It was a good thing Bob himself didn’t notice that. Michael wouldn’t have called him shy, not after he saw him punch another student into unconsciousness, but he had a guarded behavior where others could notice his peculiarities.

Unlike Micah, who would usually use his tail to whip others, just so he’d advance in a line.

“Still, Bob, how come you wanted to be a mage?” Michael asked. “I mean, if the question’s too personal, don’t answer, but I thought to ask.”

“It’s not a problem.” He said, shrugging. “Not many of my people have the potential of magic. Very rarely, one in a few generations becomes a |Shaman| or |Spirit Talker|. Addendum Classes are more common, but even so, our last |Enchanted Warrior| died over two hundred years ago. I have more magical potential than any other Gaindel in history. It wasn’t a matter of want, for me. It was one of need, for my people.”

“…damn, Bob.” Micah said.

“Wait, so you didn’t want to become a mage?” Michael asked. “You just had to?”

The rhino man thought, his horns tilting up.

“I am… not sure. I never had a passion before. Nor a want. Perhaps I’ll find one here.”

“Or you could just coast through life. Make the best of it. Like yours truly.” Micah grinned.

“Or you could not.” Michael laughed.

“We should go.” Bob said, standing up. “Our next Class awaits.”

The next Class, which Michael ‘lovingly’ thought of as PE, was an ever-changing environment. Last time they did this, the students had to navigate across, beneath and between moving, floating platforms. Just that. Just moving. Now, they were going to actually hit each other. Their professor claimed this would teach them to always be alert and to learn how to think and move in different environments.

Oh, and another interesting thing. The professor seemed to change with the lesson. Last time it was a human. Now, it was a lady with wings. Go figure.

“Your purpose for this lesson is to get from here to the other end of the room. See that gate on the far side? Get there and you pass. You are allowed to use any Spells you know that are non-lethal. There’s room for error, but if I judge you to be overstepping, you have no say in the matter. Break my rules and you will spend every free moment on cleaning duty for at least a month. Which, given that I decide how long it would be, will be months. Plural!”

“What happens if we don’t reach the gate by the time the lesson ends?”

“Then I will get you, fly you really high and drop you!”

“What?! But that’s worse!”

“Enough! Get to the starting positions.”

“Ma’am!” Micah suddenly shouted. “What if we don’t know any Spells? Or, at least, any long-range ones?”

The winged woman turned, grinning and Michael saw that some of her teeth were sharper than a human’s.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm… Micah.”

“Then, Micah. Since this is a magical academy, this will be a very good lesson on the benefits of proper motivating oneself towards learning.”

Nicely put.

Though the expression on Micah’s face was one of pure horror.

“We have to stick together.” The lycan loudly whispered to the two of them.

“Oh, really? You’re not going to take them all out by yourself?”

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah, yeah. Works for me. Bob, you want to stick with us?”

“I believe that would be most beneficial.”

They aligned themselves behind the floating obscuring barrier just seconds before it went out.

“Ready!” the teacher shouted. “Go!”

They bolted ahead, as the barrier went down, though Michael had to concentrate hard to lose speed in face of what he just saw. If the last environment consisted of floating platforms, this one was made of bridges. Just bridges. Sometimes with railings, sometimes with walls for railings. Sometimes the bridges were more hanging tunnels than bridges. They spanned either wide or short distances, crisscrossed themselves or formed intersections in the air. All in all, the perfect environment where one had to both be on the lookout for stray Spells and have a lot of opportunities to go after others.

Not if I have anything to say about this.

See, that’s the problem with these kinds of tests. There was always a way to game them. Sure, they would be in a high-stake situation, kill or be killed type of stuff, until the end of the lesson. Or they could not do that.

“Hey, everyone!” he shouted, with Micah and Bob running behind him.

“Dude, shut up!” Micah frantically said.

“Everyone! This test is only a test if we want to hit each other. We don’t have to do that. We just have to get to the gate. We can all pass? What do you say?”

The ones around him, on the same bridge and others stopped running. Which made others stop too. His words rang loud and even the teacher, high in the air, was staring at him. The students stared at him and at each other. There was truth to what he said. They could all pass. A decision was being made. And the first student answered him.

“|Firefly|!”

Michael danced out of the Spell’s way.

“Wh- WHY?!”

“I told you! Come on!” Micah grunted and the three started running again.

Behind them came more Spells, some students laughing, while others seemed to actually be enraged at one of them trying to cheat.

“Coward! |Sand Blast|!”

It seemed that Michael’s attempt at diplomacy made them the unwilling target of the others. And since everyone liked an easy mark, Spells were positively raining behind them. It was only their continuous run and their favorable position that kept them safe, since the bridge they had chosen was straight and went on for some time. Yet the end of it was in sight and they would have to either jump down to another bridge or slowly descend all the way to the lowest bridge by a side ladder.

“This is not a good situation!” Bob said, running steps thundering.

“Really?” Micah laughed. “I told you not to do it!”

“Yes, you did, I’m sorry.”

Not sorry. Fucking high-school dog eat dog mentality.

“Right now, we need to focus on staying in one piece. Bob, what Spells do you know?”

“I don’t know any.”

“Really not the time to be holding out, buddy.” Micah huffed.

“I am not. I simply not had the chance of learning any.”

“Great!” the lycan shouted, as an arrow made of light whizzed past his shoulder.

But there was no more time to talk, as they had just reached the end of the bridge. The foot was pretty high. At least ten feet. Yet without even hesitating, Bob jumped down. The sound his landing made seemed to imply that ether his feet or the bridge had just broken, but he stood up without worry the very next second.

“Jump!” he said, raising his arms. “I will catch you.”

“I am so not making that jump.” Micah said.

Which would have probably been true, had Michael not turned back and seen five pursuers on the same bridge they were on and a host of others on adjacent bridges. And they had just unleashed a cumulative barrage of Spells. Which were seconds from hitting them.

That was why Michael jumped, pushing Micah off the bridge in the process.

“Oh shit! Oh, no, NO-“

“It is alright.” Bob peacefully said. “I got you.”

“Good, now let’s run! There’s a literal mob after us!” Michael exclaimed.

They ran then. They ran straight ahead on the lower bridge, though the drop was significant enough that they managed to put some distance between them and the others. They ran until the bridge reached an intersection, a place multiple bridges came together.

And it was just as they were traversing this intersection when a rune flared out in the floor, ice instantly encasing their feet. Only Bob’s momentum made him break through and he got Michael and Micah out too, only by the time he did it, they were surrounded on three sides, by three individuals.

“The Ascentionalists will have your answer now, Michael. We would otherwise wait, yet too many factions have staked their claim on you for us to feel comfortable doing so.” A young mage, in a white robe, said.

“The Martials also want your answer. Don’t worry about these other two. Say yes and they’ll be my concern.” Another mage grinned, robbed, but with skin composed entirely of rocks.

“Yeah, uh, we haven’t really talked with you before, but our leader said you impressed her. Enough that she wants you. Her name’s Ravena, by the way.” The mage said, looking bored and out of place. “Anyway, she told me not to take no for an answer, so, uh, say yes, yeah?”

Ascentionalists. Martials. And Ravena?

This really isn’t what I thought being popular would be like.